


Knock on my Door

by reedswrote



Series: Superheroes [3]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedswrote/pseuds/reedswrote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles visits Erik at work. Things get a little... intense. :Superheroes timestamp:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock on my Door

Hernandez on the left pile… Miller in the drawer… Coquin in the case…

The clock ticks loudly in the background, each click grating on Erik's nerves.

Levington in the middle… Chow in the bottom left drawer…

It's not the best way to organize his files, by languages, but it works out. And to be fair, it isn't really _just_ by languages – its language, then priority, and _then_ case matter, so, yeah, it works.

Erik sticks Young into the top drawer, right after Kim, and sighs. This is… tedious. When Jenkins and Roberts Law hired him he thought it would be more exciting – interpreting for the clients who didn't speak English very well, if at all. But it turns out that when the firm said they mainly cover immigration cases they didn't mean defending someone who may or may not have snuck a whole drug cartel into the country. It's more like he or she didn't find work fast enough and are being threatened with fines. In other words – it's boring. Extremely boring. But he gets his own office, and filing cabinets, and the sense of pride that comes with knowing that he's helping someone's life change for the better. He feels useful and not just like some rich kid who got to travel the world thanks to his massive trust fund while everyone else toughed it out in college.

Still, as he places Ebanks into the middle folder on his desk, Erik can't help but wish Mr. Perkins had kept Rosalita Cortez has a client – he's almost positive she murdered her husband if the shifty way she answered questions about his whereabouts were anything to go by. He wouldn't be surprised to see her on the evening news in a few days.

A knock at the door interrupts his less than charitable thoughts. "Come in."

The knob turns, the door opens, and when he looks up he sees Charles standing in the doorway. Warmth trickles through his veins, and he lets Ebanks' folder drop. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, no, come in." Erik grins and stands up from his chair for a stretch. His lower back aches a little from all the hunching over he's done today. "What're you doing here? I thought you had class."

"I did. We ended early – Professor Lee dumped all the essays on me to grade, but I decided I'd stop by for lunch before heading home." He holds up a bag Erik didn't notice when he first walked in. Erik smiles as he watches Charles unpack a plastic carton of mixed fruit to rest on the desk top. He perches on the edge so that he's facing Erik. "How's your day going?"

Erik shrugs. "Boring. We don't have anyone scheduled to come in until three and even then it's a boring case."

"About what?" Charles pops a piece of melon into his mouth.

"You know I can't tell," Erik chides and puts a grape into his mouth, chewing it slowly.

"I can always look," and he wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Erik snort a laugh.

"But you wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't." Charles smiles, and reaches over to straighten Erik's tie. He stays still and, when that's finished, pulls Charles' hand up to his lips to kiss the knuckles absently.

"I just want this day to be over," he mutters. And he knows he's whining, but it's true. He just wants to go home, change into something that isn't a suit and tie, and flop down on the couch with Cerebro to watch Wheel of Fortune while Charles sits in his favorite blue chintz to grade hundreds of essays.

Charles slides off of the desk to stand in front of Erik, smoothing his palms up and down the crisp forest green shirt underneath the dark blue suit jacket. His voice is cajoling and indulgent; he's used to Erik's moods, knows the difference between when he's seriously annoyed and just a bit grumpy. "It can't be _that_ bad."

Erik shrugs and wraps his arms around the smaller man's waist, swaying them to and fro slightly. He pretends to think hard. "It is. I suppose it would be a little better if I had a sexy little secretary who brought me forms to sign and bent over way too far to pick up pens."

Charles laughs, ducks his head, and looks back up, mock serious look on his face. "Cecilia is out there." He nods his head towards the outer office. "I'm sure she'd pick up pens for your pleasure."

Erik pulls a face. "God, don't remind me." He's still not over how she tried to follow him into the men's bathroom when he first started working here. "Besides," he smooths his hands down to squeeze Charles' bottom softly. "She's not really my type."

A stern look. "I'm not going to play secretary for you, Erik."

"Even if I ask nicely?"

Another laugh, blue eyes shining. "Even if." He tugs on Erik's tie when the taller man pouts. "And don't give me that face." Those little tendrils of happiness unfurls inside of Erik's bones. Just having Charles here boosts his energy. Boredom forgotten, Erik bends to nuzzle his face into the crook of Charles' neck. "You're ridiculous," Charles murmurs even as he moves his head to the side to give expose more of his throat.

"So you tell me," is murmured against fresh smelling skin, and Erik feels the shiver run through Charles' body.

"See, I could never be your secretary. I don't even work for you and you're already distracted. You'd never get any work done."

"I'd manage."

"Mhm."

"I would." Erik pulls away from pressing his lips to Charles' Adam's apple to look down into his face. "A file here, a 'pen drop' there, maybe a kiss every once in a while…"

"A kiss would _definitely_ distract you," Charles says quietly, even as he leans into Erik. His voice is pitched in that certain way that causes Erik's heart to speed up in his chest and heat to run down his spine. And suddenly the mood has shifted - from playful to heavy. Those sparks, still so new and intoxicating, burst between them in the air, charging the space.

When he speaks again, his own voice is low, rougher than usual. "Nah, I'd be fine," he squeezes Charles' ass again, hauling him slightly closer. He bends, so that their foreheads are touching, lips barely grazing. "But let's test it out anyway. Just to be sure."

The thought that he shouldn't do this while he's at work, not when he's in his office and anyone could barge in, flits through Erik's mind briefly. But he leans in closer anyway to bump his nose gently against Charles'. For a moment he takes his hand away from where they were gripping and kneading to aim it casually at the door. Without taking his eyes away from the man in front of him, he slowly turns his fingers and hears the lock on the door click as the tumblers slot into place.

The first touch of lips is fleeting – a brief sensation of slick and pillow soft that has his skin prickling and insides melting. Charles goes to move away, teasing, but Erik follows, heart beating quickly already as he presses one hand to the small of the other man's back and laces the other through soft, sun-warmed hair. Feels hands gripping his shoulders, but all that really registers is the hot breath skipping across his chin and the _hot_ , wet, silken heat that is Charles' mouth. The sound of Cecilia talking to a client on the phone beyond the door fades away as they kiss; _everything_ fades as Erik slips his tongue past lips to lick at the roof of Charles' sweet tasting mouth. Tastes grapes and melon before it fades away to leave just the taste of _Charles_ -that taste that's indescribable, and unique, and so addicting. _Fuck, he tastes so good, always tastes so good-_

His bottom lip is being nibbled on, and he can't focus, can't remember why this is a bad idea. Not when Charles is arching into him like this, hands desperate on the back of his neck and in his hair. Rubbing against him so shamelessly and _fuck_ -

It's always like this now - the combination of waiting for years to act on poorly buried feelings and the feel of warm hands on hot skin always seems to take a simple kiss from zero to sixty in no time flat. It blows a fog into their minds, clouding judgment and obscuring discretion, their entire focus pinpricks only large enough to encompass each other. He knows that this will fade eventually, this need to get under each other's skin as quickly as possible, but for now the burning urge is there and they rarely ignore it, too eager to make up for lost time. Erik presses closer, grinds his hips against the other man's, and feels his knees almost buckle at the friction, at the zipping, tangy feeling of Charles' hard cock pressing against his own before shifting to straddle his leg. Pulling away with a gasp, he watches through hooded eyes -watches Charles work himself on his thigh, making these little pleading sounds, _wanting_ it _so_ _badly_ -

A broken sound is punched from his chest, collides against lips he presses back in to a kiss bruised mouth and suddenly Erik is _lifting_ , holding Charles up with one arm, while the other frantically sweeps away files and papers, and fruit that may get in the way. The image they must make, Charles small and spread open enough for Erik to stand in between his legs, documents everywhere, ignored as Erik bites his way into Charles' mouth – his cock twitches at the mental picture, and he can feel a small bead of pre-come surface before sliding slick down his still trapped shaft.

Their lips don't separate for a long moment, not even when Charles grips the edges of Erik's suit jacket and pushes it back and away, tugging and pulling until it finally lies on a heap on the office floor along with the everything else. The sound of rustling clothes and heavy breaths fill the space, whispers of _please_ and _now_ that has Erik nodding and pressing kisses to Charles' jaw and neck while his fingers fumble with belts and buttons.

The sound Charles makes when Erik wraps his hand around his cock has him shivering inside, veins throbbing. He's heavy in his hand, hot and red, leaking pre-come and getting Erik's palm tacky with it. He remembers vividly the first time he and Charles made it past first base - when inhibitions and the vow to take it slow snapped in half, and careful, hesitant hands were finally gripping parts they'd been dying to for touch for years. He remembers nearly coming untouched when he'd looked down the lengths of their flushed bodies to witness for the first time just how much pre-come Charles drips when he's turned on. He'd seen it in porn before – grown men with thick cocks, squeezing their fists around swollen purpled heads while long, clear strings dripped down to pool in the dips of backs, or into mouths. It was always an image that got him off faster than anything else, and to see the fantasy attached to Charles, writhing and crying out into his ear–

A shiver rips through him. The thick, sticky sound of foreskin covering the slit before pulling back to reveal a shiny head has them both whimpering into each other's skin. There's some more fumbling, the clink of a belt buckle against buttons, and then he's being engulfed by a warm palm that holds firm and strokes with a single minded purpose, thumb rubbing across the dome for an excruciating couple of seconds before moving down to rub at the bundle of nerves right beneath the ridge.

Erik can't breathe; his lungs are burning, but that doesn't stop him from fucking his tongue into Charles' mouth, tasting every inch, and swallowing all those little noises that the other man just can't hold in. Keeps on doing it until Charles is moaning almost continuously, hips straining and jerking up into his grip, humping and meeting Erik's fist every single time. It's when his body tenses slightly that Erik finally rips his mouth away to watch.

He loves watching Charles fall apart, loves to see him come, hard, thick pulses of white splashing out to cover his hand, loves the way his wet, pink mouth falls open and his blue eyes close for those few blissful seconds before opening again, dazed and shiny. The sight, like always, pushes Erik over the edge, has him moaning long and loud, uncaring of who else can hear, as hot, thick splashes of come bubble over Charles' fist, smearing a little onto his stomach, and the tails of his shirt.

The room smells heavily of sex, muggy and hot, settling on their tongues as they suck in labored breaths through their mouths. He sighs and rests his forehead against the Charles' own sweaty brow, accepting the deep, lingering kiss that leaves no corner of his mouth untouched, lazy and slow, and so damn hot it has his cock twitching in anticipation for a second round.

"You," he says lowly, kissing Charles' bottom lip, "are going to kill me one of these days. Or get me fired."

Charles grins and accepts another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth. "I can stop coming for lunch."

"Mm mm," Erik says, giving Charles' cock another sticky squeeze, moaning quietly when he hears the way he hisses. Casts an eye around at the files and grapes scattered all over the office floor. "You can come by anytime you like."


End file.
